


Shades of Vanilla II (The Fallout Is Rarely Disappointing)

by Clair de Lune (clair_de_lune)



Series: Shades Of Vanilla [2]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Ending, Erotica, Exhibitionism, F/M, Happy Ending, Kinks, non-epilogue-compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/pseuds/Clair%20de%20Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He kissed her in the infirmary at Fox River, for crying out loud. (Post-series, alternate canon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades of Vanilla II (The Fallout Is Rarely Disappointing)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to foxriverinmate for the beta.

_He kissed her in the infirmary at Fox River_ , for crying out loud. As a matter of fact, Sara does cry it out loud. Or at least, she whispers it loud enough for Sofia, who’s sitting on the veranda a few feet away, to turn her head towards them and look. Lincoln shrugs and pats her arm in a _never-mind_ way.

Michael argues in a silky voice that the infirmary kiss was meant to distract her and get the key. She points out – beside the fact that he may want not to bring up that specific argument, right? – he had other means to distract her and get the key. She thinks he enjoyed it. He admits he did. _A lot_. She scowls because she didn’t mean the kiss, smartass, she meant the kick of kissing her in the damn infirmary, where anyone could have come in and seen them, and all hell would have broken loose.

At this point, he looks down and smirks. He enjoys bantering with her; he likes the sparkle in her eyes and the flush of annoyance/arousal that creeps up her neck and cheeks; above all, he _loves_ the prospect of the fallout. A few years of marriage and everyday life haven’t changed this: he’s good at flirting with her, and she’s a delicious sparring partner. As for the fallout? It’s rarely disappointing.

Some people get off on fantasizing on their brother-and-sister-in-law and having their eyes blindfolded during sex, he whispers while rubbing his thumb on the inside of her wrist. What’s the big deal if he enjoys a bit of a thrill every now and then? They kiss, and when _she_ rubs against him, it’s her breasts on his chest; it can’t be called ‘playing fair’, but who cares about playing fair? He kisses her deeper, until she moans low in her throat and balls the cotton of his tee-shirt in her fists.

It’s only Linc and Sofia on the other side of the wall, glancing at them without trepidation through the window. It’s not like those two have never seen them being affectionate with one another. But still. It makes Michael’s heart beat a tad faster.

\- - - - -

The first time something really happens, he’s almost forgotten about their discussion and he doesn’t relate it immediately to Sara’s hand slipping up his thigh under the table at the restaurant. Sara’s hand slips up his thigh all the time, a mere gesture of affection. Just usually... not that high, not that _inside_ of his thigh, not that close to his...

His wine goes down the wrong pipe. Sara’s hand flies from his crotch to his shoulder and, next thing he knows, she’s vigorously stroking and patting his back. She asks him with a dash of concern and a mischievous gleam in her eyes if he’s feeling all right. On the other side of the table, LJ and his girlfriend have stopped eating and chatting, and they’re watching him worriedly.

He nods. Except for his throat slightly burning him and his eyes watering, he’s feeling okay. He’s feeling great; so great actually that he won’t try to get up and leave the table for a while. He keeps this piece of information to himself but, given Sara’s phony benevolent expression, she probably knows that too.

He casts her a sideways glance when she presses her bare knee against his leg. On the table, their fingers entwine in a display of innocent tenderness that makes LJ and the young woman smile fondly.

\- - - - -

Making out at the library doesn’t count, Michael explains scientifically, because books and the knowledge inhabiting them have always excited him. He just needed an outlet; it has nothing to do with enjoying inappropriate public displays of affection. Sara can’t help reminding him that they were in the ‘Erotic Literature’ section so if anything there was exciting, it probably wasn’t gothic arches or roman pillars – dirty innuendo intended.

He will admit that the way she backed him against a shelf and hitched her knee up to his waist, not to mention how she directed one of his hands under her dress and the other to her breasts, kind of got to him. Sure, he freaked out a bit when she pointed up to the cameras above them, but a delightful shiver ran down his spine. He didn’t let the added bonus of said cameras sidetrack him from his goal. Neither the cameras, nor the few people wandering in the stack right on the other side of the half empty shelf, or even the employee who uselessly cleared his throat several times in their direction. It was too shadowy in there, anyway; the guy couldn’t exactly see what they were doing. Probabilities are they’d have been thrown out if he had.

Michael kissed her and delicately stroked his fingers between her legs until she tightened around them and whimpered in his neck. It had been hard not to come just from _her_ pleasure and the situation – to be honest, maybe he did, just a little bit.

A few hours later, lying on her side in their bed, Sara notes that, as a doctor as well as a wife, she’s curious to know how one can come ‘just a little bit’. He kisses the question away from her lips and she stretches out lazily against him. She’d say that making out at the library counts very much and was very rewarding. What about they borrow a few books from the ‘Architecture’ section, next time?

He scrunches his nose. Architecture books would be nice, but he’s not sure the two of them will be allowed in any section of the library again. Not together at least.

\- - - - -

The beach takes things to another level. Full light, bright sun, people swimming, splashing and playing around them in the blue-green water. It’s a beautiful day and they’re hardly the only couple to cuddle and kiss in the surf. He wonders if the other women’s fingers are doing to their respective significant other what Sara’s are doing to him, though.

It’s started out innocently, her hands around his neck sliding down his shoulders and back and settling on his waist. Then they glided down a bit more and dipped under the cool water, sneaked into his swimming trunks and wrapped around him. Soft and firm and fondling him into full hardness. He froze, whispered a strangled, “Oh, God,” perfectly aware she wouldn’t stop, and leaned into her touch.

A few minutes later, they’re still swaying against each other, water sloshing up to their waist, gently lapping and stroking them. Almost in slow motion, he bows his head down to rest his forehead in the crook of her neck; her skin is salted and so smooth, he can’t help licking it, licking her. There are people around them, and he feels alone in the world with her. Anyone could realize anytime what’s going on, and he couldn’t care less.

That’s not true. He cares. There is the thrill of the so intimate caresses given right in the middle of so many strangers, and the kick of Sara laying her claim on him, rolling with the idea that those people may find out what she’s doing.

The screams and background sounds of the beach decrease until they become nothing and all he can hear is the waves and the soft backwash. Maybe it’s only in him, only in his head, just as the warmth he feels on his skin only radiates from Sara. Never mind the blistering sun. When he comes, he bites hard into her shoulder so he doesn’t shout out the feelings and sensations choking him.

\- - - - -

Later, Sara will avoid pointing out that thinking to lock the door would have been a good idea. She’s not that much into Freud but well, parapraxis much?

The party is lively and so loud. Nothing original for a party at Lincoln’s. It always makes their heads spin, always feels weirdly exhilarating even though they usually don’t share Linc’s tastes in that matter. The difference tonight is that, eventually, they sneak away and find haven in the master bedroom. It’s either the master bedroom or the guest bedroom, in which LJ and his girlfriend are sleeping during their stay for the vacation. Given what they have in mind, Michael doesn’t really want to go there, physically or mentally.

He whispers that “This is wrong,” while pinning Sara against the door to kiss her, repeats it when they tumble across the bed, and says it again and again as their clothes and underwear fall onto the colorful carpet – Sofia’s choice, undeniably. Sara arches up and grinds against him. Right now, she whispers back between two greedy kisses, his litany of “wrong” just makes her want to screw him even more.

“I know,” he confesses with a smirk. She may have his number – God, does she have it – but he certainly holds onto hers.

The bed is huge and comfortable, slightly dipping in its middle. They roll into that small gap, and Michael rolls Sara on top of him. The pillows smell like Lincoln and Sofia, reminding him in the most pregnant way where they are and what they’re about to do.

“Shoot,” Sara says with a fake concern, an impish pout curling her lips, “What if Sofia needs something in here and comes in? What if she sees you like this?” His breathing gets more erratic, both because of the question and because Sara is kissing his neck, his chest, his stomach... “What if...” She crawls down a bit lower. “... she sees me doing this?”

He would call her tease, but you can’t call people ‘teases’ when they deliver on their promises, can you?

They stop moving and stare at one another each time the floor creaks outside of the bedroom, each time one of the boisterous guests accidently bumps into the door. Then they forget about the door and the guests because Sara is straddling him, moving up and down leisurely. She’s driven in such a blatant way to make him totally lose it. He grips her hips.

It’s the noise that pulls them out of the moment, the laughter, the music and the clinking of glasses suddenly louder than they should be. When Michael looks up, when Sara throws a glance over her shoulder, Lincoln is at the door and looking at them, the irony obvious on his face. He licks his teeth and ogles the curves of Sara’s bare backside with an exaggerated leer. Michael covers what he can with his hands. Lincoln rolls his eyes at the untimely modesty – you don’t get naked in others’ people bed if you’re not ready to let them enjoy the show a little bit, y’know?

“What has been seen cannot be unseen, bro, and for the record, I got an eyeful.” He wriggles his eyebrows and adds appreciatively, “Nice.”

Sara blushes but collapses against Michael’s chest and chuckles in his neck. She _nibbles_ his neck, damn, shifts on him and clenches around him; she plays with him as well as on the fact that Lincoln is watching without possibly knowing how skilled her internal muscles are. Michael blushes too, because between the intimate massage and Linc’s amused gaze, he feels himself hardening more and throbbing inside of her. He’s dying to finish what they’ve started.

“There are clean sheets in the dresser,” Lincoln informs them casually, picture of coolness. He waves towards the dresser in question. “Please remake the bed when you two are done, ‘kay?”

The soft click of the door he carefully closes on his way out tips both of them over the edge.

\- - - - -

 _He kissed her in the infirmary at Fox River_. She says he can’t pretend that it’s not worse than making love with her in his brother’s bed. He replies that he can. And he does. He’s always happy to challenge her. The fallout is rarely disappointing.

-Fin-


End file.
